Blood and Fire - Part One
by Neckee777
Summary: Shipwrecked and washed up on the shores of Winterhold, behold the story of Dramain. A Dunmer boy who was raised surrounded by magic, he will set out to uncover the mysterys of his ancestry and trace back his bloodline. Part One: Hunted by assassins, Dramain must learn the skills needed to survive. But why are they hunting him? The story begins! Rated T to be safe. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The cold winds of the Sea of Ghosts cut through the small Dunmer boy like a hot knife cuts butter.

Bivassi looked on as he sat on the deck, shivering, rocking back and forth with the lap of the waves against the hull.

They had been at sea for the most part of three days now, and Bivassi hoped beyond hope that they would arrive at their destination soon.

"How long until we reach Windhelm?" She yelled over the wind at the Captain.

He was a slimy man. Short and raggedy amongst Imperials, with a mop of bronze hair and a scruffy beard. His eyes shone, but not with life or happiness, but with madness. Bivassi wouldn't have been surprised if this man was bordering on insanity. But he was the best people smuggler she could find, and she had to rely on him if she wanted herself and her son to remain alive.

"The winds are working against us, m'lady." The Captain yelled. "I estimate another half-day at sea. Two days tops."

"That isn't good enough!" Bivassi yelled, fury dripping into her voice. "We must get to land, otherwise my son will die!" She gestured to the half frozen boy on the deck.

"Are you questioning me aboard my own vessel, m'lady?" It was a dare, Bivassi could tell.

"No." She said quietly. She knew that he could sell her out when they got to Windhelm. She didn't want that. And she wasn't going to be the one that have him the reason to do so.

Bivassi sighed in defeat and made her way to the boy on deck. He had Dunmer Garments wrapped tightly around him up to his chin. His cowl was up and he appeared to be staring at the planked floor.

She sank down next to him.

The boy looked across at her, his eyes covered by his cowl.

"I'm cold, ma." He whimpered.

"I know, Dramain. I know." Bivassi hugged him. It broke her heart to see her son suffering.

"How long until we get there, ma?" Dramain asked quietly, his voice cracking slightly.

Bivassi stayed quiet for a moment. "I don't know, son." She replied. "I don't know."

"Why'd we have to leave home, ma? I didn't want to go." Dramain was on the brink of tears.

"It's not safe for us back home anymore." Bivassi explained for the hundredth time. "We had to go. We'll start a better life in Skyrim, ok? You have to trust me." She looked into his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Dramain held back the tears.

My strong little boy, Bivassi thought.

"I trust you, ma." He said, and leaned his head on her shoulder.

They sat there for a while in silence, the only noise the howling wind and the waves crashing against the hull.

"Sail ho!" The cry came from the crows nest.

"Stay here, ok?" Bivassi said.

Dramain nodded and she got up.

"What's going on?" She asked as she approached the Captain.

He simply pointed. "Boat." He said.

Bivassi looked out at the sea. A thick fog had descended that made it hard to see more than a few feet away. But after a while she saw it.

Not ten metres away Bivassi could distinguish the sails of a ship, not much larger than theirs. It's nose was facing them.

"They're going to hit us." The Captain frowned. "Maybe they can't see us."

The ship was closer now. Bivassi noticed that something was splitting the water that wasn't the hull. She looked at the foot of the ship and saw a vicious looking steel spike jutting out of the hull near the nose. Her eyes widened.

"They have a ram!" She cried.

The Captain went pale. "Pirates..."

He drew a breath to call some commands, but too late. They were hit by the ram.

The ship lurched and Bivassi toppled over. She stumbled and hit her head on the Captains wheel. Everything went hazy.

Everyone on the ship was in a panic. Sailors yelled out and the sound of running feet was like thunder. Amongst the cries and screams Bivassi distinguished one: Dramain.

She shook her head and got to her feet. The world spun around her, but soon everything came into focus.

"Ma!" Dramain's terrified cry found her ears.

"Dramain!" She ran down to the deck where the panic was thick. Bivassi looked towards the ship that had rammed them and now noticed dark-skinned figures working to get it side on.

"Ma!"

Bivassi rushed to where Dramain had been sitting before but he wasn't there. She panted heavily. Her eyes darted frantically from one end of the ship to the other but all she could see we're running sailors.

"Ma!"

Finally, she saw him. Huddled in a corner, both hands covering his ears. She rushed towards him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Everything will be ok, Dramain. We'll be fine." She tried to say soothingly, but the tone of her voice betrayed her. She was scared.

The dark-skinned figures, Redguards they were, jumped from their ship and roared, scimitars raised.

"Are we going to die, Ma?" Dramain whispered.

"No, Dramain, no. We'll be ok. You have to trust me."

Dramain nodded.

Bivassi smiled in what she hoped was reassurance. Dramain gave a weak smile back, but it soon vanished and his eyes widened in fear.

Bivassi turned and saw, too late, the Redguard coming at her.

He grabbed her with an iron grip and yanked her away from Dramain.

"Well, well, lookie here. A grey skin." The pirate grinned cruelly.

Bivassi tried to escape him but he held on. She flailed her arms and and wrenched her body, but his hand still gripped her. She got one arm free and swung it as hard as she could, slapping the Redguard across the face.

He looked at Bivassi, a new hatred in his eyes. He brought back his scimitar.

"I was gonna let you live, but now..."

"Ma!"

Dramain hurtled towards the pirate and grabbed his sword arm, pulling the scimitar away.

The Redguard looked down at Dramain and scowled in disgust. With little effort he lifted his arm, a flailing Dunmer boy still grabbing on, and flung him.

Bivassi witnessed as Dramain sailed through the air. Time seemed to slow as she saw her son, a look of pure terror on his face, fly and then plummet straight over the side of the ship and into the freezing ocean below.

It felt like a piece of her just collapsed and died. She wrenched her arm free and ran to the railing.

"Dramain!" She cried, staring open-mouthed at the churning water, her tears joining with the ocean.

Then she felt a cold pain pierce her belly. She looked down and saw the scimitar protruding from her stomach, her blood painting the blade and soaking her clothes.

She registered a brief moment of pain, and then anguish. And then... Nothing...

**This chapter was hard to write. I knew what I wanted but it was just getting it onto paper, y'know? Anyway, I hope those of you who read it enjoyed it. Any constructive criticism and tips are greatly appreciated. Also, while I'm here, I'm gonna do something I've never done before and promise constant chapters (OMG!). *dramatically places right hand over heart* I, Neckee777, solemnly swear to deliver weekly chapters. If I fail to uphold this vow, then all the readers, if there are any, reserve the right to throw poo at me when I'm walking down the street.**

**I don't own the Elder Scrolls, because if I did I'd probably be rich, and that's something I'm not.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Tolfdir liked walking. It had to be one of his favourite pastimes.

He did plenty of walking around the College, but the same formidable stone walls and blinding blue magelights got boring quickly, and he lost interest fairly fast.

On rare occasions he'd get to go for a walk outside the College. It was those times where he reveled in his moments of freedom.

Whenever he declared he was going for a walk some of the other professors teased him.

"Why would you want to go out there?" They'd jeer. "All it is is snow."

Tolfdir paid them no mind. He just went for a walk.

As of late his walks were extending, and he was absent from the College for longer. Sometimes he wondered if they needed him while he was away, but every time he came back everything was just the same, so he didn't let it weigh on his mind.

Now, on one particular day, Tolfdir was out walking, outside the College, which was a rarity, and he decided to walk down and inspect the ice fields. It had been a long time since he'd done so, and he was curious to know if anything about them had changed.

It was the little things, Tolfdir had decided, that made all aspects of nature beautiful. Like snowflakes. Nature was true magic.

Tolfdir wandered down a slippery path to the ice fields that stretched over a great part of north-easterly coast of Skyrim. And it was near the ice fields that he found something he definitely didn't expect.

A small boy, washed up onto the snow, face-down and not moving.

"Oh my." Tolfdir muttered.

He hobbled over and crouched down, rolling the body of the boy over.

"Dunmer," Tolfdir said. "Very odd. Very odd indeed."

The boy was wearing what appeared to be Dunmer Garments. They were wet and torn in some places, but these Garments weren't like the attire of common Dark Elves. They seemed more... Regal, so to speak.

Tolfdir then noticed the insignia that was sewn over the heart of the garments. It was the insignia of House Redoran.

Tolfdirs' eyes widened slightly. More and more questions kept popping into his head. This boy was of some significance, he could tell that much.

He splayed and hand over the boys chest and used his other hand to check for a pulse. Tolfdir honestly doubted the boy was alive, but he had to be sure.

At first there was nothing, and Tolfdir actually felt sad. The boy was so young. But then he felt it. A faint thump of a heartbeat. This boy was still alive.

Tolfdir grinned and hefted the boy up onto his shoulders. He had to get him back to the College for aid. Even if the boy was alive now, he wouldn't be for long without help and healing. Tolfdir had to get him to Collete. If anyone could heal him, she could.

"Don't die on me, boy." Tolfdir grunted, and began to climb.

Tolfdir wasn't as young as he once was, and he felt that now, climbing the snowy slopes back up to the College. Each step became harder and harder to take, until Tolfdir was shaking with effort. But with every step he thought about the life he was trying to save. The life of the Dunmer boy lying across his shoulders.

At long last he made it to the College's entrance.

"Faralda!" He called to the Gatekeeper.

"Tolfdir?" The Altmer guarding the bridge replied. "What's going on?"

"Go and get Collete. I require her assistance."

"Why?" Faralda looked confused.

"The life of a young boy hangs in the balance. Now make haste!"

Faralda nodded and turned, running towards the College.

Tolfdir jogged slowly after her, breathing heavily and still carrying the boy.

Faralda and Collete met Tolfdir halfway towards the College.

"What's going on?" She asked, then her eyes widened as she noticed the boy.

"Give him to me." She said, and Tolfdir placed the boy into her outstretched arms.

"We need to get him inside," Tolfdir said, "out of this chill."

"We'll need to hurry," Collete stated, placing a hand on the boys forehead, "he's fading."

They got him to the College, into the Hall of Countenance.

"Place him on my bed." Tolfdir directed, and Collete put the boy down.

She pulled a dagger of Orcish make from her belt and cut the boys shirt from his body. She discarded the shirt and sheathed her dagger. No one noticed Tolfdir put the shirt in one if his pockets.

Collete placed both hands on the boys chest. "He's got a few broken ribs and a ruptured lung." She said. "He's only just holding on."

"Can you fix it?" Tolfdir asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I can try. But magic won't bring him back to full health. We need potions." She turned to Faralda. "Go and see if you can find any healing potions."

Faralda nodded and, once again, turned and ran in search of healing potions.

"Ok," Collete took a breath and shut her eyes.

She splayed her hands and tendrils of golden light spread from them into the Dunmer boy. The light spread across his body and sank into the parts that were damaged. Slowly, his skin turned from the pale grey it was to the ashen grey that marked the Dunmer race.

Tolfdir looked on with worry as Collete tried to heal the boy.

Faralda returned, carrying a single flask filled with a pink-red liquid. "This is all I could find." She huffed, handing the potion to Collete.

"It will have to do," Collete frowned, taking the potion. "Hold his mouth open, will you?"

Faralda did as she was asked, and Collete poured a trickle of the potion into the boys mouth.

He coughed and spluttered, retching as the healing liquid ran down his throat, but he was soon quiet. Tolfdir saw the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed again.

Collete corked the flask. "He'll live." She said simply.

"I should get back to the bridge." Faralda said, and left.

Collete sat down on the stones next to Tolfdir. His eyes were intent on the boy, who was now sleeping.

"Why did you rescue him?" She asked.

Tolfdir gave a weak smile. "Look at him," he said, "he is so young. I couldn't leave a child to die. I had to try to give him another chance at life."

Collete was quiet for a while. She admired the old mans view on life. Not many people in the College were as warm as Tolfdir. That's why she liked him.

"What will we do with him?" She asked.

"He can stay here." Tolfdir said without hesitation. "I'm sure the Arch-Mage won't mind. He'll learn magic under my tutelage." Tolfdir looked at Collete and smiled. "I'm sure he'll make a fine addition to the College."

**Well there's chapter 2. I know I said 1 chapter a week, but I have quite a bit written at the current present so I'm gonna promptly change that to 'at least' one chapter a week. The 'prologue' I suppose of this story has been elongated into 2 chapters. I was just gunna write one big prologue but then I thought it over and decided 2 chapters to fit in the pre-beginning of the story (if you will) would be better. I know it was boring, but I hope you all liked it and are looking forward to chapter 3! :D**

**I don't own the Elder Scrolls. It'd be cool if I did, but I don't.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dramain floated through the sky, a look of fear painting itself on his face.

He watched the stars in the sky, in all their beauty, but in midair he turned and met the eyes of a woman. He'd never met the woman, yet something about her seemed strangely familiar.

He saw her face. The look of horror, and panic, and he saw as the tears crawled into her eyes and started rolling down her cheeks.

_Why is she crying?_ Dramain thought.

Time picked itself up again, and Dramain barrelled towards the icy waters bellow.

He heard the panicked sound of the woman.

"Dramain!"

But then he hit the water.

And he shot up, panting heavily as the dreams of the night quickly ran from his memory.

The more he tried to remember, the less he could.

Dramain held his head in his hands and groaned.

"Every night..." He muttered.

He reached over towards his bedside table and took the glass of water that was there. He drank, hoping the liquid would awaken his senses. His hopes were in vain, however, as all it did was make him need to visit the bathroom.

Dramain shook his head a few times, trying to get the blood moving to his brain.

For a while he just sat there in bed, trying to pick himself up for the day ahead. Probably another day of learning what he'd learnt the the day before. And the day before that, come to think of it.

Dramain flung the sheets off the bed and got changed into his Expert Robes.

He was a senior student at the College of Winterhold, I suppose you could say. But that was to be expected, having spent eighteen years learning there.

Dramain was learning Alteration under the tutelage of Tolfdir, with some Destruction and Restoration lessons on the side. He'd tried to get into the School if Illusion but Dramain found Drevis Neloren too strange.

Dramain pulled his hood up and made sure his leather braces were tight before exiting the Hall of Attainment.

Immediately, he was hit by a wind that could rival the chill of an Ice Wraith bite. He pulled his hood lower and made his way across the grounds.

"Dramain."

Dramain stopped and turned to the source of the voice.

It belonged to Mirabelle Ervine, who was acting Director of the College while the Arch-Mage was preoccupied.

"Yes?" Dramain asked, politely nodding his head as a greeting. Mirabelle made no such gesture in return.

"Tolfdir was looking for you. He said it was important." She said.

"I know," Dramain gestured towards the door leading to the Hall of Elements. "I'm going to his class right now."

"I'm afraid you won't find him in there."

"Excuse me?"

"He's in his chambers," Mirabelle gave Dramain a stern look. "I wouldn't keep him waiting much longer."

"Oh, ok. I'll take my leave then. Thank you."

Mirabelle turned and briskly walked off.

Dramain sighed. Eighteen years and he still hasn't had so much as a "hello" from that woman.

Dramain backtracked to the Hall of Attainment and continued on until he reached the Hall of Countenance.

He entered and went to Tolfdirs chambers. He raised a fist to knock on the door, but hesitated. Tolfdir was talking to someone or something. All Dramain could here was his voice, sterner then he had ever heard it.

"No, he's not here... Yes, I'm lying to you. What do you take me for?... I would rather die than jeopardize the life of one of my students!... Go on then, kill me... This is your last warning. LEAVE NOW!"

"Tolfdir?" Dramain entered the room.

Tolfdir's eyes snapped to Dramain.

Dramain took a quick scan around the room, but no one was there.

"I heard you talking to someone." He asked cautiously. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Tolfdir said, smiling. "Everything's fine, m'boy. Now sit, please."

Dramain went into a corner and sat in the chair there.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Oh! Yes, indeed. I have something for you." Tolfdir opened a chest and started rummaging through it.

"I know it's here, it has to be here somewhere... Aha!"

From the chest Tolfdir took a brown package. He handed it to Dramain.

"This," Tolfdir said, "is for you."

Dramain unwrapped the package and gazed wide-eyed at the contents.

"These..." He stammered, "these..."

"Those, are your Master Robes." Tolfdir said, smiling with joy.

"Tolfdir... I..." Dramain still couldn't get past his surprise. "Thank you." He said.

Tolfdir chuckled. "You're the best student I've ever had, Dramain, m'boy. Those robes represent your status as a Master Wizard of Alteration."

"I can't believe it." Dramain whispered, picking the robes up with care, as if they'd turn to dust at any given time.

They were dark red and blue, embroiled with gold thread around the seams. Tails that fell to the back of the knees were folded carefully in the package.

"Oh yes! I have something else for you, too." Tolfdir said.

Dramain looked up. "Tolfdir, please, this is more than enough."

"Nonsense!"

Tolfdir went to his bookshelf this time and flicked through the books, reading the spines.

"Here it is."

He took a book from the shelf and handed it to Dramain.

"This is a spell tome." Dramain said, flicking through the pages.

"Indeed," Tolfdir said, "the spell you will learn within those pages is Dragonhide. Casting it will keep you safe from eighty percent of all physical damage. It is the most complicated and difficult spell in our field, but I believe you are ready."

"Thank you, Tolfdir." Dramain stood up and embraced the old man.

He'd been a mentor to Dramain ever since he was little. Tolfdir had treated him with kindness and respect, and even though he was far superior he always treated Dramain as an equal.

They broke off the embrace.

"Now, off with you!" Tolfdir said. "You have a lesson with Faralda in twenty minutes, I don't want you to be late."

Dramain laughed. "Will do."

He gathered up his gifts and left Tolfdirs' chambers.

He had barely walked a meter when he heard a crashing sound behind him.

He dropped his things and barged into the chambers.

What Dramain witnessed shocked him.

Tolfdir was lying on the floor, motionless and covered in what looked like hardened ash.

Standing over him was a man or mer covered from head to toe in black apparel. His face was veiled by a cowl that disguised his features with shadow.

Dramain recovered.

"Tolfdir!"

The figure looked at Dramain briefly, seeming to study him.

The ash that covered Tolfdir was starting to crack.

The figure looked down at the old wizard and then back to Dramain. Deciding his odds weren't favorable, the figure leaped and crashed through a window.

"Hey!" Dramain shouted.

He ran to the broken window and, without thinking, jumped after the man in black.

Dramain saw him. A black spot covering the white landscape of Winterhold.

He was free falling and gaining speed. Surely when they both hit the ground they'd die.

_No way,_ Dramain thought, _I'm not dying today._

Dramain had about nine seconds until impact. He cast an Ebonyflesh spell so that maybe he could survive the fall.

8...

Dramain lifted his feet so that he was directly facing the ground.

7...

He pulled his arms back and pointed his toes so that he'd achieve minimum wind resistance.

6...

The gap between Dramain and the black figure stopped increasing.

5...

Dramain hurtled towards the figure and reached his arms out.

4...

Dramain took hold of the figure.

3...

The two grappled in midair, each one trying to get the other so that they were to hit the ground first.

2...

Dramain felt a dagger at the figures belt and pulled it out. In one clunky motion he drove the dagger into the mans sternum.

1...

Dramain kicked away from the man in black, taking the dagger with him.

0...

Dramain met the ground with force. He heard several cracks as ribs splintered and all the air shot from his lungs. It was like no pain he had ever felt before.

It felt like the entire College had landed on him and it was content with sitting there until he was squashed to death.

The snow had done little to cushion his fall as he had hoped. But he'd probably have died if he hadn't cast that spell, he was certain of it.

Dramain took a ragged breath and rolled over. He spied the man in black and forced himself onto his knees, and then onto his feet.

A wave of grogginess hit him and the world span in his eyes.

Dramain stumbled over to the figure and fell to his knees.

Gripping the dagger in his right hand, Dramain rolled the man over.

The figure was a Dark Elf like Dramain himself. His blood red eyes gazed cruelly at Dramain and his face was painted white with war paint. His blood painted the snow around him red as he bled openly from the wound in his chest.

Oddly enough, the mer seemed to be laughing. It was weak, but unmistakable.

Dramain raised the dagger.

"Tell me who you are and I will end your suffering." He said coldly.

The Dark Elf just laughed. "Life itself is suffering, boy. Do not try to send me to Oblivion. I will not go there by your hand."

He laughed some more, but the laughter quickly became coughing as he hacked up blood.

The Dunmers eyes locked with Dramains, and suddenly all the laughter was gone.

"We will never stop hunting you." The Dunmer said quietly. "You cannot escape us."

"What are you talking about?" Dramain stabbed the dagger into the snow next to the Dunmers head. "Speak!"

"You can run, Dramain. So that's my last advice to you, as a Dark Elf. Run."

The Dunmer laid his head back and life escaped from his body.

Ash began to spread from his fingers. It ran up his arms like thin veins until it covered his whole body. The mer was nothing but an ash statue now.

Dramain breathed heavily. He took the dagger from the snow and slid it into his belt.

"Tolfdir..." He whispered. "I need Tolfdir. I need answers."

**Ah, the real story has begun! I hope you liked chapter 3 even though that falling bit was kind of... yeah... I think it's important to note that I've actually written all these chapters at about 1 in the morning, so there's that... Any constructive criticism is appreciated and I sincerely hope you are all looking forward to chapter 4! :D**

**I'm pretty sure I don't own the Elder Scrolls. If I did that'd be a major surprise.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Do you remember your name, boy?" Tolfdir asked.

A young Dramain looked up at him, into the old man's eyes.

"I..." Dramain began. He didn't see any cruelty or malice in the old man's eyes. Just warmth and concern.

"Dramain." He said.

The old man nodded. "Dramain. I see... My name is Tolfdir. Wonderful to meet you." Tolfdir smiled, and the smile made Dramain feel more at ease.

"Now, Dramain," Tolfdir said, "do you remember what happened to you before you came here?"

Dramain nodded, but then a look of puzzlement crossed his face. Tolfdir watched as Dramain tried to reach out for the memory, but with little success.

"I'm sorry." Dramain said, looking down at the floor. "I don't remember."

"That's okay." Tolfdir said.

Dramain looked up and gave a weak smile. He liked the old man. He was nice.

Tolfdir smiled reassuringly. "Get some rest. I'll bring you a meal later."

"Okay." Dramain said. "Thank you."

"That's quite alright."

Tolfdir exited the Hall of Attainment. Faralda was leaning on the wall just outside.

"Does he remember anything?"

Tolfdir sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Something has shocked his memory, be it the cold of the waters he was found in or what got him there."

Faralda frowned. "Then how are we to know who he is or how he got it?"

"We can't."

Tolfdir absentmindedly slipped a hand into his pocket where he felt the tears of Dramains shirt. His brow furrowed in thought.

"I will catch up with you later, Faralda," he said, "I have some business to attend to."

Faralda nodded a farewell as Tolfdir began to walk off towards the Hall of Elements.

"Oh," he called over his shoulder, "and can you get someone to bring Dramain food? Not someone who will intimidate him, though."

"Dramain?" Faralda inquired.

"His name." Tolfdir replied. "It was all the boy could remember."

Tolfdir made his way to the Hall of Elements, and from there scaled a flight of stairs to the Arcanium. Inside the Arcanium Tolfdir marveled, not for the first time, the sheer size of it. The room itself was circular, with bookshelves that rose to the ceiling lining every wall. In the middle was a reading area which was set slightly lower than the rest of room. The Arcanium was one of the most majestic things that the College had within its walls.

Tolfdir found Urag Gro-Shub sitting at his desk eating a stick of bread and reading through A Dance in Fire, Book IV.

As Tolfdir approached the Orc looked up, bookmarked his page and closed the book.

"Tolfdir," Urag said without enthusiasm, "what do you need?"

"Can you tell me anything about this?" Tolfdir produced the torn shirt and spread it out across Urag's desk, pointing at the crest on the left side.

Urag looked briefly at the symbol. "That's the crest of House Redoran, one of the Great House's of Morrowind."

"Yes, yes, I am well aware of that," Tolfdir said, waving an airy hand, "what I'd like to know is its significance."

Urag shrugged. "Presumably, it signifies that the wearer was, or is, a member of the House."

Tolfdir inwardly rolled his eyes, and was about to make an irritable remark when Urag spoke again.

"Actually," he said, "that doesn't look like the regular attire for a lower-class member of the House." He looked up at Tolfdir. "These are the garments the Dunmer boy was wearing, aren't they?"

Tolfdir frowned. "Indeed. He seems to remember nothing about the events of what brought him here, simply his name."

"That's somewhat quizzical," Urag grunted. "Hold on."

The Orc rose from his chair and unlocked one of the bookshelves behind him. Tolfdir watched as he flicked through the spines of the books, searching for one that might assist with identifying the boy.

After a few minutes Urag produced three books and lay them out on the desk in front of Tolfdir.

Tolfdir muttered the names as he read them. "Great Houses of Morrowind, Redoran Inquiries, Second Edition and-"

"The Laws, Customs and History of House Redoran." Urag finished, taking the book and opening it. He flicked through the pages, scanning them and dismissing them.

"Here," he said, facing the book towards Tolfdir and pointing at a paragraph. Tolfdir read.

_The crest of House Redoran is openly displayed by the members of the House in public areas of the Houses' land. The Crest is slightly altered for each member of the House depending of how high a class they are. Commoners of the House bear a standard red insignia, warriors of the House bear red with silver trim and nobles and their advisors bear red with gold trim. _

Tolfdir looked up and Urag gestured towards the Redoran insignia on the torn clothes. The water had damaged them, but the crest was unmistakably red with gold trim.

Urag took the book from Tolfdir and closed it. "Whoever this boy is," the Orc grunted, "he is of some significance."

"That much is not being questioned," Tolfdir murmured. "But this still doesn't explain how he got here, or why he's here."

Urag leaned back in his chair and picked up the book he was reading before. "I'm afraid that information won't be found written in the pages of the books I possess. You'll have to investigate on your own."

Tolfdir straightened up. "Thank you Urag." He took the books from the bench top.

Urag glowered. "Keep them clean and treat them with respect."

Tolfdir spent the most part of the next day reading, and although the books Urag had provided held some excellent information, next to none of that information helped Tolfdir identify Dramain, his family or his past.

Tolfdir was mulling an idea over in his head, and decided that it would be the best course of action for finding out who Dramain was.

And so he was here, outside the Arch-Mages quarters and waiting for him to answer the door.

Savos Aren opened the door to admit Tolfdir entry.

"Tolfdir," he said, the smooth Dunmer accent making his voice sound deceptively calm. "I've been expecting you."

Tolfdir entered the room, but paid no attention to the details. He was hear on a mission.

"Arch-Mage, I require three weeks of leave from the service of the College." Tolfdir said bluntly, but with proper respect for his superior.

Savos nodded. "Why, may I ask? Does it have to do with the Dunmer boy you found in the ice-fields two days ago?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it does." Tolfdir said. "The boy is shrouded by a veil of mystery. He seems to remember nothing of his past, and since he will be my student I feel that those details are a necessity."

Savos cocked his head to one side, seeming to mull the idea over. "Do you have anything to go off?"

"I do. Dramain seems to be of some significance to House Redoran. I also assume that since he was found alive in the ice-fields he must've been aboard a vessel of some kind."

Savos nodded. "Where would you start?"

"Windhelm is the closest dock. I assume that someone at the inn or someone in the Grey Quarter of the city would have some information."

"Very well," Savos said, satisfied with Tolfdir's plan. "I grant you three weeks of leave from the College's service."

Tolfdir gave a shallow bow. "Thank you, Arch-Mage."

With that, Tolfdir gathered together a small amount of gear and ventured to Windhelm.

The journey took three days on foot and Tolfdir was more than glad to see the old city looming over him.

He went to the first building he saw straight in front of tha main gate, with knowledge that it was Candlehearth Hall.

He entered and was relieved that the inside was warm apposed to the harsh climate outside.

"I'd like to rent a room." Tolfdir said, reaching into a coin pouch by his belt and producing ten Septims.

"Sure thing, it's yours for the day." The innkeeper said, taking the coins and giving Tolfdir a friendly smile. "Your room is the one on the right, at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you," Tolfdir said. He took thirty Septims from his coin pouch and placed them on the counter. "Have you heard of anything out of the ordinary recently?"

The innkeeper glanced around quickly before she took the coins. She retrieved a glass and leaned in as she filled it with wine.

"I've heard there's been a pirate attack on a ship in the last week or so. Redguards by some accounts. Plundered the thing and killed half the crew." She said quietly.

Tolfdir nodded and took the win glass, taking a sip. "Do you know if there were any Dunmer on board?"

"Maybe. I can't be sure. You'll have to ask by the docks. I think the ship might still be there."

"Thank you." Tolfdir downed the rest of the wine and retired to his room.

The next morning he gathered his things and went by the docks.

He saw a group of Imperials being questioned by the City Guard and guessed that they were the ones who got pillaged while at sea.

Tolfdir waited for the Guard to leave before he approached.

"Were you the ones plundered by the Redguard pirates?"

One of the sailors looked up form what he was doing. "Who's asking?"

"Think of me as a business associate." Tolfdir said. He tapped the coin pouch at his belt.

The sailor came to Tolfdir, who handed him fifty Septims.

"Tell me about what happened." He said.

"Hmm," the sailor thought for a while. "We were maybe a half-day out from Windehlm when we were buffeted by a terrible storm. Wind and fog and snow and cold was pushing as around, trying to get us all to the end of our tether. The pirates came out of the fog and rammed us, then they boarded, killed half the crew and took everything we had."

"Was there a Dunmer boy on the boat with you when this happened?"

"I don't know," the sailor said, faking a puzzled look. "My memory seems to have clouded."

Tolfdir inwardly sighed. He hated bribery, but he knew it was the only way to get things done around these parts. He handed the sailor another twenty Septims.

"Ah, yes, now I remember. There were two of the grey skins on the boat. A women and her kid. Paid a pretty price for the Captain to get them here. I don't think they made it."

"Where's your Captain. Where is he now?" Tolfdir asked eagerly.

"Ummm..." Tolfdir gave the sailor twenty more Septims. "Solitude, I think. The second he got off the boat he dashed. If you're going looking for him, his name's Saulard. Not many of us respect him, but he pays well."

Tolfdir stood content in thought for a while. "Okay. That is all."

"Pleasure doing business with you." The sailor said with a mocking grin.

Tolfdir left and went back through the city, stopping at the Grey Quarter to see if any of the Dunmer there knew anything about the Dark Elves aboard the boat. But no luck.

He took a carriage to Solitude and rented a room at the Winking Skeever. After five days in a wooden cart he was glad to be in the comfort of an inn.

"I'm looking for a man named Saulard." He said to the innkeeper, sliding thirty Septims across the counter to him.

The innkeeper, a gruff looking man, took them without looking up and pointed to a table in the corner of the room where the light only just touched.

Tolfdir spent the next fifteen minutes observing Saulard. He seemed to be constantly aware. Always looking around him, obviously in fear, to try and see an enemy that wasn't coming. He kept taking hasty sips of his drink and fidgeting with a ring on his finger.

Tolfdir knew how he could get what he wanted from Saulard, though he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Have you got a dagger?" Tolfdir asked the innkeeper.

The innkeeper raised a suspicious eyebrow, but something in Tolfdir's eyes told him that he wasn't going to use it for harm. He took an iron dagger from beneath the bar and handed it to Tolfdir.

Tolfdir strode over to where Saulard was sitting, trying his best to look intimidating. He sat down at the table and Saulard looked at him with a mix of fear and disappointment.

"Are you Saulard?" Tolfdir asked with as much gruffness and force as he could muster.

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean... Who wants to know?" Saulard said, jittering.

"Just tell me what I want to know and you'll walk out of this alive."

"I only speak for a price."

In one swift movement, Tolfdir stabbed the iron dagger into the table between them.

"Your life is your price. Now speak!"

Saulard's eyes widened in horror. "Yes, yes, okay. What do you want to know?"

"The Dark Elves on your ship. What did they pay you for?"

"They, uh... She, I mean, She paid me to smuggle them into Skyrim." Saulard said uneasily.

"She?"

"Yes. She. Bivassi, I think her name was."

"Who is Bivassi?" Tolfdir maintained eye contact with Saulard, who was beginning to sweat. To add to the performance his fingers kept dancing around the hilt of the dagger.

"She didn't tell me much. From what I can gather she is a noble from one of Morrowind Houses. I'm not sure which."

"Hmm..." Tolfdir mulled over this information, inspecting it in his head. "What level of noble?"

"I don't know," Saulard said, shaking his head furiously. "You'd have to ask someone who's up to date with those events."

"Do you know anyone?"

"Brynjolf. He's a guy out in Riften. For coin he can get you anything you need. Gear, information. I think he has ties to the Thieves Guild. But he's expensive."

"Okay," Tolfdir muttered. "Get out of here." He said to Saulard.

"Yes, yes, sir. Thank you. Thank you." A spluttering Saulard said, getting up and hurrying to the exit.

Tolfdir went to the innkeeper and gave him his iron dagger back, nodding his thanks.

He retired to his room.

When he got up to leave the next day, Tolfdir noticed a disturbance in the city.

The City Guard had fenced off an area of the city, and people crowded around it, trying to see what had happened.

Tolfdir got a quick peek, and he was shocked to see the figure of Saulard, dead and caked in hardened ash...

**That was chapter 4, the longest chapter to date! I wanted to do the sort of jump backward sequence so you guys could see how Tolfdir tried to uncover Dramains past. I know it jumps around a lot, but I sincerely hoped that you liked it and are looking forward to chapter 5. Please please please leave any and all constructive criticism in reviews and such so i can improve my writing. That'd really help me out.**

**[legal stuff goes here]**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Dramain climbed from the foot of the College up to the city of Winterhold, before making his way across the bridge that led to the College itself.

He was feeling a mix of emotions that came with the events of the last half hour. Anger, fury, bewilderment, and above all, puzzlement.

He walked with haste to Tolfdirs' quarters and could hear the old man conversing with a woman.

"I'm telling you Mirabelle, they are growing bolder," he emphasized his words to try to get his point across. "This is their third attack this month, and they show no sign of stopping."

They promptly cut off their conversation as Dramain barged into room.

"What was that about?" He demanded.

Tolfdir and Mirabelle exchanged a look, as if they were having a silent conversation. After a few second Tolfdir nodded.

"If you don't mind, I'll have to return to my duties." Mirabelle said, and exited the room without so much as a glance at Dramain.

Dramain briefly took a moment to look up to the Heavens in exasperation.

"Sit down, m'boy." Tolfdir said, gesturing towards the chair that Dramain had been sitting in not thirty minutes earlier.

Dramain looked at the chair then looked back at Tolfdir. "No." He said bluntly.

Tolfdir looked somewhat surprised for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.

"You probably have some questions right now, and I will answer them honestly. So please, ask away."

Dramain rifled through his thoughts furiously. He had so many questions when he entered, but now that he had been addressed with asking them they seemed to have abandoned him. He shrugged inwardly and asked what he asked earlier.

"What was that about?"

Tolfdir nodded. A fair question. "That mer, and the group he is a member of, wants something from the College. Representatives of this group have been coming and going from the College for years now."

"What group is he from?" Dramain asked. "What do they want from here?"

Tolfdir shook his head. "I'm afraid that I am unaware of the group he represents. I sent a letter to a contact in Riften some weeks ago asking for information but, as of yet, I've received no reply. As for what they want..."

Tolfdir trailed off.

Dramain waited expectantly, arms crossed.

"Tolfdir?" He pressed.

Tolfdir met Dramains eyes. "They want you, Dramain."

A new confusion took place in Dramains' eyes and Tolfdir could see it. His arms dropped to his size and his mouth hung slightly open in shock and unwelcome surprise.

"How much do you remember of your childhood, Dramain?" Tolfdir asked, not for the first time but for the first time in many a year.

Dramain squinted.

"I remember the College." He said. "I remember learning here since I was young, but otherwise the College is all I remember." He glanced at Tolfdir. "Why?"

Tolfdir was up and looking through a chest. After some time he produced a similar package which held Dramains' Master Robes.

He gave it to Dramain, who took it hesitantly and unwrapped it.

Inside the package was a torn shirt that looked like it had been the growing field for mould for a long time. The fabric was a dry brown and most of the details had been rubbed away over the years.

Dramain unfolded the shirt and an envelope slid out and floated to the ground. Dramain picked it up and put it to the side, inspecting the shirt some more.

After a few moments of searching he noticed a crest sewn carefully over the heart of the fabric. He stopped.

"Do you recognise it?" Tolfdir asked.

"Yes, I recognise from my History lessons with Urag." Dramain said, not taking his eyes off the crest. "It's the crest of House Redoran."

"Indeed," Tolfdir nodded, "that's what I found you wearing eighteen years ago. You were washed up in the ice-fields, barely alive."

Dramain looked at Tolfdir uncertainly. The old man had a pain in his eyes. He gestured towards the letter.

"Read it." He croaked.

Dramain lay the shirt down and took the envelope. He pulled a piece of parchment from it and unfolded it, still looking at Tolfdir.

The old man was looking down at the letter.

Dramain finally read.

_Tolfdir,_

_Thank you for contacting our organisation. The payment your provided for our services was exemplary. _

_After some searching into the matter of the shipwreck and the passengers aboard the ship, I discovered that the two Dunmer you described were runaways from the island of Solstheim just north-east of Skyrim. _

_As I'm sure you know, the island belonged to Skyrim but was handed over to the Dunmer after Red Mountain erupted and ever since the inhabitants have tried to make the island home._

_The island is largely controlled politically by House Redoran, which, after some digging around, has seen a bit of a crisis when the current Warmaster was murdered due to some court intrigue, that of which no one seems to know many details about._

_My contact on Solstheim tells me that some days after the current Warmaster was killed his wife and heir fled the island out of fear of the same fate._

_From what I've been told, accusations are flying here and there to root out who might've committed such a huge crime. A large number of the Dunmer population suspect that the Warleader killed the Warmaster, for reasons his own. Of course no one has openly accused him as none are in a position of power to do so with back up from followers._

_For the time being, the Warleader is trying to organise the politics of the House._

_Since the coin you provided was of a large sum, I did some more snooping and followed the trail back to the ship the Warmasters' wife and son were allegedly aboard. Neither of them arrived at Windhelm._

_Should you require any more information, you know where to find us._

_Brynjolf_

Dramains' mouth was dry. He couldn't tear his eyes from the letter before him. He had never really contemplated about what his life was before the College. He didn't remember. He just assumed he was an orphan who had been taken in.

But as he read so much seemed to make sense. It was as if a fog had cleared from his mind.

The sound of Tolfdir's voice brought him back to reality.

"We believe that you are the son of the deceased Warmaster of House Redoran." He said. "You are, in all rights and respects, head of the House."

**Ah, this chapter was fun to right. The secret of Dramains past has been revealed! Now what? Tell me what you thought! Loved it? Great! Hated it? Whatever, just be nice about it. Hope you readers out there are looking forward to chapter 6! In all honesty, I'm enjoying writing this fanfic and regardless if you like it or not I intend to finish it. And all the other parts along with it! **

**I'm writing out of 'creative' things to say here, so for now I'll just say that I don't own the Elder Scrolls.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"It is no longer safe for you here." Tolfdir said, walking briskly towards the Hall of Elements.

"Why, Tolfdir? Where are you leading me?" Dramain jogged to catch up.

Despite the revelations that occurred earlier, inside Dramains head was a river of questions and confusion. Surely none of it was true. But even as he thought it he knew he was lying to himself, just to make his life seem a little easier.

Tolfdir ignored the questions. "It has become apparent that this group will not give up until they have you. So you must leave this place."

He led Dramain into the Hall of Elements and up the stairs to the Arch-Mages' quarters.

Tolfdir knocked on the door and the Arch-Mage answered.

"Tolfdir," he said, "you're here. Good. Come in."

He stood to the side, allowing them entry.

"Dramain," he said as Dramain passed.

"Sir," Dramain gave a polite nod of his head.

The Arch-Mage closed the door.

"They have come again, Arch-Mage," Tolfdir got straight to the point. "Except this time they tried to use force. It is evident that eighteen years of waiting for compliance has worn their patience short."

Savos Aren looked thoughtful. Dramain assumed he was assessing the situation.

"I feel that Dramain needs to leave the College." Tolfdir said. "They know where he is. He's a sitting duck if he remains here."

Savos nodded. "I agree," he said after a long pause. "But where will he go?"

"I'm unsure," Tolfdir admitted. "Anywhere but here."

"Whiterun is arguably the safest city in Skyrim," The Arch-Mage stated.

Dramain looked on, mouth agape, as they discussed his course of action.

"Hey!" He interjected. "Don't I get a say in what I'm going to do?"

Tolfdir looked as if he'd just noticed Dramain and The Arch-Mage gave him a dull expression.

"I'm sorry, m'boy." Tolfdir said. "Please, what did you have in mind?"

Dramain thought for a while. Realizing that he hadn't a clue of what to do, he instantly regretted butting in.

"I'll go to Whiterun." He said evenly. "But I'm not going alone. If I get caught along the way, I don't think I know enough Destruction magic to keep me alive. So who'll come with me?"

Savos and Tolfdir looked at each other expectantly.

"I have a College to run," Savos said.

"But..."

"I'll go."

Everyone jumped with shock at the new voice. They all turned and saw Faralda leaning against the wall, casually holding a ball of electricity in her hands.

"Faralda, how-" Savos began.

"Door was unlocked," She said simply. "I had to hand that report in. Decided to stick around."

The Arch-Mage was lost for words. He just stood there in utter surprise. Dramain forced himself not to chuckle and to keep a straight face.

"Anyway," Faralda continued, "I have some business to attend to in Whiterun. Personal stuff, don't ask. But it'd be nice to have a bit of company."

Tolfdir and Savos exchanged a look.

Dramain made the decision for them. "That'd be great," he said. "Thanks Faralda."

Faralda inclined her head. "I'll be off now."

She went to leave but stopped at the door. She turned her head. "We leave at dawn, Dramain. I expect to arrive at Whiterun within the week."

She walked down the stairs. "Don't dawdle," she called, "If you're late, you'll have to catch up to me."

There was a prolonged moment of silence between the three men left in the room.

"Well," Dramain piped up, "that sorted itself out."

Savos nodded. "Indeed it did."

"Not quite," Tolfdir said.

Dramain looked at him, bewildered. He had thought that since he would be gone that the situation would cease. Now, he realized how foolish that thought was.

"You cannot stay in one place for too long," Tolfdir addressed Dramain. "Whoever is hunting you will inevitably find you, I'm sorry to say. You'll have to continuously move around. Never be in one place for more than you need to be."

Dramains' shoulders sank. He inwardly cursed his luck and his bloodline.

"I suggest," Tolfdir continued, "that you go to Riften after you have been to Whiterun."

"Why?" Dramain asked.

Tolfdir held up a hand. "Later." He said.

Savos Aren cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, I need to get back to the curse that is being Arch-Mage." He gestured to the door.

"Oh, of course! Sorry, Arch-Mage. Thank you."

"Never mind it. Now if you would..."

"Yes, yes. Come, Dramain."

Tolfdir left the room, Dramain following closely. He shut the door behind him.

Tolfdir led Dramain back to his quarters.

"You don't want to forget these." He said, reaching down to where Dramain had dropped his gifts earlier and handing them to him.

Dramain took his Master Robes and the Dragonhide spell tome. He dusted them off before speaking.

"Why am I going to Riften?"

"I know a group that can help you." Tolfdir said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a satchel. "Take this."

Dramain took the satchel and was alarmed at how heavy it was.

"How much is in here, Tolfdir?" He asked.

"Seven thousand Septims. Should be enough to get them to help you."

Dramain looked at the satchel, then back at Tolfdir. He offered the satchel.

"I can't take this Tolfdir." He said.

"Nonsense," Tolfdir said, waving an airy hand. Dramain had a weird sense of deja vu.

"That money will be enough to get you supplies. If you're going survive, you need the right equipment... and the skills." He said the last part eyeing the dagger at Dramains belt.

"Do you know how to use that?" Tolfdir asked.

Dramain looked down at the dagger. "Uh... no, not really."

"Learn." Tolfdir said grimly. "Your skills in Destruction are very limited, and I don't think they'll keep you alive."

"Oh..." Dramain said bleakly.

"I'll send a letter to my contact in Riften to arrange some gear for you, but it will take a while to organise."

"Ok," Dramain said, slightly panicked.

He'd never seen Tolfdir like this. The old man was so direct with his words. He moved with haste, his eyes were hard and his mouth was in a tight line. This situation was serious.

"What do I do after Riften?" Dramain asked, trying to keep the panic from creeping into his voice.

"I do not know." Tolfdir admitted. "Make your way around. Once you reach Whiterun, I'm afraid the College will no longer be able to help you."

He looked Dramain in the eyes. "I'm sorry, but we must look out for the rest of our students. You are potential danger, Dramain."

The old man went back to rushing around his quarters, seemingly looking for something but never finding it. Dramain sensed the conversation has ended.

"Tolfdir?"

"Yes, m'boy?"

Dramain hesitated. "Why didn't you tell me about my past earlier?"

Tolfdir stopped.

"Honestly," he said, "I don't know. Maybe you weren't ready to hear it. But then, maybe I wasn't ready to share it."

Dramain sighed. Tolfdir had been his mentor and his friend for eighteen years. He kept thinking that maybe he would wake up tomorrow and everything would be back to normal. But Dramain knew that that wasn't the case. This was the end of his time at the College.

He turned to go.

"Dramain?"

Dramain stopped. "Yeah?" He said, without turning around.

"You have the potential to be something magnificent." Tolfdir said quietly. "I believe you should achieve that potential."

Dramain nodded. "Yes, Tolfdir."

He exited the room, leaving his teacher, and his friend, behind...

**Chapter 6! I know, all of these are short chapters, but in my defense I'm writing this story on my iPod. I know it's a slow start, and I promise that things will pick up eventually. Maybe not in Part One, but they will pick up and be epic in later stories, I promise you! Also, tell me what you thought! I loooooove constructive criticism!**

**The Elder Scrolls, I own not.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dramain had overslept.

He'd spent the majority of the previous night reading the Dragonhide spell tome in order to have the spell ready for when he'd need it. So far he'd barely achieved anything, but as he read he began to understand more what the spell was about.

That was the thing with magic. In order to learn it, you had to understand it.

All was going well until his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off into a shallow and wavering sleep.

He awoke to one of the suns rays coming through his window and resting on his face.

Realizing that he'd overslept, Dramain hurriedly donned his Master Robes, Leather Bracers and Boots, threw some gear into a pack, collected his spell tome, strapped the satchel around his shoulders and bolted from his chambers.

As he ran across the bridge he caught sight of Drevis Neloran.

"Drevis!"

Drevis turned and was slightly startled by the figure of Dramain rushing towards him.

"Did Faralda pass by here?" Dramain asked.

Drevis stood there for a few moments and then nodded slowly. "Passed by, not twenty minutes ago."

"Ok, thanks." Dramain was off again.

"Dramain!" Drevis called.

Dramain turned reluctantly. "Yes?"

Drevis opened and closed his mouth a few times. "You can see me?" He stated incredulously.

Dramain looked at Drevis like he was crazy. "Of course I can see you." He said, turning and running again.

He heard Drevis mutter a "Darn." before he was off the bridge and running through the remnants of Winterhold.

The air was beyond freezing, and Dramains' teeth chattered as he ran along the slippery cobblestone pathway that led to other parts of Skyrim.

After a few minutes of running Dramain had to slow to a jog, and after fifteen minutes of that he had to walk.

Now that he'd stopped running the air seemed to get colder.

Dramain summoned a tongue of Flames and cupped his hands around it, trying for all the world to stay warm.

After another half hour of walking at a brisk pace, Dramain came upon Faralda who was strolling along.

She turned at the noise of another person walking, and shook her head slightly as she noticed it was Dramain.

"Nice of you to catch up." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Nice of you to wait." Dramain replied, matching the sarcasm that Faralda used.

There was a brief silence before Faralda spoke.

"We'll be out of Winterhold at around noon tomorrow if we continue at this pace." She said. "From there we'll cross over into The Pale and arrive in Whiterun Hold in four days time. Hopefully we'll arrive at Whiterun by dusk on the fifth day. Given we don't run into any trouble." She said the last words whilst eyeing Dramain cautiously.

Dramain scowled on the inside.

They walked for some hours in silence, following the same cobblestone path. At times someone would try to make conversation, but it ended up more like small talk as the points were dismissed early on.

They stopped for lunch at around two in the afternoon, and stopped for dinner and rest at nine. At six they were up again and walking.

They followed this same routine for all the days, and nothing even remotely exciting had happened. That is, until they had reached the Pale.

They were a half day away from entering Whiterun Hold when they struck.

It came out of nowhere.

Two arrows flew by them and landed firmly in the ground, now beginning to show signs of grass, next to them.

Dramain and Faralda were alert immediately as another arrow flew from the trees straight at them.

Faralda cast a Firebolt spell, burning the arrow mid-flight. A handful of ash hit Dramain in the face in place of the arrow.

Dramain drew his dagger and cast an Ebonyflesh spell. Faralda summoned a ball of fire and a ball of electricity into her hands.

"Show yourselves," she barked, with more authority than Dramain thought she had.

Two black-clad figures seemed to rise up from the shadows off to the left of the path.

They each held Glass bows, which they now flung over the back.

In sync, the black-clad figures pulled their hoods back, revealing two Dunmer with painted white faces.

"We have come for Dramain," the taller of the two said. "Give him to us and no harm shall befall you, High Elf."

Dramain scowled.

He glanced sidelong at Faralda, who wore a blank expression. A perfect poker face.

Dramain felt a flicker of doubt at Faralda's unwavering stare. She was giving nothing away.

"No," she said slowly. A little too slowly for Dramain to feel safe.

"Very well," the other Dunmer said. "Then you choose death."

In sync again, the two assailants drew their swords. The swords were Dwarven and they glinted brightly as the sun touched the bronze metal.

Dramain readied his dagger and Faralda held the power of the elements in her hands.

The Dunmer, it seemed, were in no rush to get their job done.

The two advanced slowly, brandishing their blades.

Partway between them, they split off, one going for each of their targets.

Faralda fired a Lightning Bolt at the taller one, who evaded the spell with ease.

The shorter one advanced on Dramain, who cast another Ebonyflesh spell to bolster his defenses.

Dramains assailant swung the Dwarven sword in a wide arc. Dramain jumped backwards to avoid the hit, then went in to jab with his dagger.

The Dark Elf blocked the blow, then sent another swing at Dramain who ducked to avoid it.

Too late did he realize his mistake. the Dark Elfs' boot flew up and crunched into Dramains stomach.

He rolled over, winded, as the Dunmer bought up his sword for a killing blow.

Dramain squinted through bleary eyes and squabbled for his dagger. He found it and, gripping it firmly, drove the steel into his attacker's leg.

Dramain had the satisfaction of hearing the Dunmer roar with pain. He brought the sword down but Dramain had rolled away and picked himself up.

Dramain sent a jet of Flames at the Dunmer, and the fire surrounded him, but did little to slow his attack.

The Dark Elf pulled the dagger from his leg and threw it at Dramain with surprising power.

The steel blade glanced off Dramains shoulder, leaving a light cut.

If not for Ebonyflesh, the blade would be buried in his arm.

The Dark Elf swung again, but in anger and pain the sword strike was imprecise.

Dramain evaded the attack and punched his attacker square across the jaw, feeling teeth loosen as it connected.

Dramain punched him yet again and the Dark Elf slumped over, unconscious.

Taking the sword from the unconscious Dunmer, Dramain stole his way to wear Faralda had locked blades with the other attacker.

She looked bloodied and bruised, and although she had conjured a sword from the planes of Oblivion, she was on the loosing end of the battle.

The Dark Elf knocked her down onto the ground and brought his arm back to deliver a final blow.

Faralda closed her eyes, admitting the end, when she heard a sickening crunch and meat being cut. She heard her attacker groan, and then gurgle, before she heard the heavy _thump _of a body being discarded.

She opened her eyes and saw Dramain, breathing heavily, standing over the dead body of the Dark Elf, who had a gaping wound through his chest and a look of utter surprise which he wore during his last moments.

Dramain met Faralda's eyes and offered a hand to help her up.

She accepted the hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"Is that the trouble you were talking about." He stated, hoping to ease the moment with dry wit.

"It would seem." Faralda said.

Dramain slid the Dwarven blade through his belt and, looking quizzically at the body of the Dunmer, took the blade from his hands and sheathed it onto the other side.

He grinned, then looked up at Faralda. "Prizes of war," he smiled, and walked over to the heap on the floor not five metres away.

"Help me tie him up, would you?" Dramain said. "When he wakes we can question him."

Faralda nodded and went to assist Dramain.

After they had tied the Dark Elf up, the two decided that they would have lunch early.

While they ate they discussed how they would get the captive to talk. If he was anything like the one Dramain had killed a few days ago, he would be stubborn and refuse to say anything.

But lucky for them, in the face of imminent death, this one was a coward.

The captive stirred and spat broken teeth from his mouth. Noticing he was tied, he tried to shake himself from his bonds.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The captive rolled over to see the Dramain and the High Elf looking at him intently.

The captive swallowed and nodded.

"Now," Dramain said, standing up, "on your feet."

He pulled the captive up so that he was standing. Dramain grabbed him by the hair and pointed the Dwarven sword that formally belonged to him at his throat.

"Are you going to tell us what we want to know?" Dramain demanded.

The captive nodded furiously.

"Good boy." Dramain said, lowering the sword.

Dramain looked up and down at the captive. He was a little on the fatter side, with chubby cheeks and rolling gut. He was shorter than most Dark Elves, standing maybe three inches below Dramain. Dramain also noticed that the smell of pork lingered with him. He'd obviously been over indulging.

"What's your name?" Faralda asked.

"Errus." The captive, Errus, muttered.

"Pardon?" Faralda said, and Dramain jerked his head so that Errus was facing Faralda.

"Errus," he said again.

"Ok, Errus," Faralda started. "Who do you work for?"

"I can't say." Errus said.

Dramain lightly jabbed the sword into Errus' wounded leg and he squealed.

Dramain and Faralda recoiled at the noise.

"Who do you work for?" Faralda asked again after some time.

Errus opened his mouth to speak when Dramain butt in.

"Tell her, or you lose the leg." His voice didn't waver, and Errus had a thought that he wasn't lying.

He noticed the High Elf waiting there for her answer.

"The Disgraced." He said, slightly stuttering.

He was beginning to sweat now, and Dramain fought against the urge to let go of his hair to wipe his hand.

"Who are the Disgraced?" Faralda inquired.

"Ashlanders," Errus said, fear rising in his voice. "We're a group of Ashlanders. Please don't kill me."

He was panicking, Dramain knew. "We won't kill you." He said. "Just tell us what we want to know. Like why to the Disgraced want me dead?"

Errus shook his head. "I don't know."

Dramain raised the sword and Errus recoiled.

"I don't know, I swear!" Errus cried. "All I know is that we're just the hunters. Whoever wants you dead isn't one of us. We're getting paid. That's all I know."

Dramain nodded. He had more questions then answers, and he planned on finding the answers.

"Ok, Faralda," he let go of Errus' hair. "I think we've got what we can from him."

Faralda nodded in agreement.

"So you'll let me go?" Errus said hopefully.

Faralda and Dramain recoiled in mock horror.

"Gods no!" Faralda exclaimed. "You're coming with us."

"What?" Errus looked at each of them pleadingly. "But I answered your questions. You have to let me go!"

Dramain shook his head. "Not gonna happen, buddy. You can't win an argument with a woman. Let alone an Altmeri woman."

Faralda sent Dramain a sharp look. Dramain just laughed.

"C'mon, Errus," he said, lightly jabbing Errus on the back with his sword. "Get a move on. We want to reach Whiterun Hold by nightfall."

"But what will you do with me when you get there?" Errus looked panicked.

Dramain shrugged. "They have dungeons in Whiterun."

Errus whimpered.


End file.
